


Snip The Thread, Free the Boy

by StarTravel



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Deception, Forgiveness, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John is a Mess, Quite Literally, Self-Destructive Behavior, Self-Loathing Meets Arrogance, Spoilers for Episode s05e08: Zari Not Zari, Therapy, divine intervention, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23784007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: It’s not a big moment of revelation or some kind of slap in the face that makes John stop and take inventory of himself, so much as just too many mistakes and lost friends piling up to keep ignoring.Honestly, John’s known it most of his life, but it takes John 30 some years to accept. that he’s always been the problem in both his and everyone he know’s lives. And with the loom, he can fix all of his mistakes and get rid of the problem to boot.What could go wrong?
Relationships: Charlie & John Constantine, Chas Chandler & John Constantine, Implied Chas Chandler/John Constantine, John Constantine & Mary "Zed" Martin, John Constantine & Nora Darhk, John Constantine & Team Legends, John Constantine & Zari Tomaz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Snip The Thread, Free the Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started this before "Zari Not Zari" as a general angsty pondering about John Constantine and a possible ending for him in season 5 (that will likely not be the ending, this show is not that dark and they love ending in a big fight and not everyone quietly hanging out on the waverider post or pre fight).
> 
> Then “Zari Not Zari” happened and Behrad died, and I felt like I needed to have that be a part of the fic, given that it would (or should anyway) be at the forefront of John’s mind while considering what to do with the Loom. I’m not entirely happy with that, but I think I need to address the larger feelings of grief Zari has in a different fic that was more focused on her. 
> 
> As a general warning, please heed the tags. This fic goes to some pretty dark places, and as it is from John’s point of view for the most part, how unhealthy a lot of his thinking is doesn’t end up being confronted. It's also now been beta read.

John is a selfish bastard, so he goes over his choices a few more times than someone like Ray or Sara or Zari would. After all, there’s always a loophole, always a way out of it. He’s not considered Magic’s greatest conman for nothing. But, there’s no getting around it this time. Fate is fate (until it isn’t as Charlie keeps insisting, but what the bloody hell does she know), and John can’t see anyway around what he should do with the loom now that they have the pieces. 

At least he won’t feel any pain. Or he bloody hopes not, anyway. Guess he’ll find out once he plays with the Golden thread and all that. 

He knows he needs to say his goodbyes before this, because he’s not exactly going to be welcome on the Waverider after this stunt. Honestly, a part of him is surprised he still is now, given how many times he’s shown them he’s the exact bastard he claims to be. 

But then Sara is Captain, and she’s always believed too strongly in second chances just because she deserved one. John almost admires that about her. Almost. 

He finds himself at Zed’s door first, knocking so many times he starts to worry she up and moved on him. But then the door swings open, softly concerned eyes and wild curly hair staring back at him. “John? What are you doing here? It’s been years. Three to be exact —“

John takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes, trying to force himself to remember why he’s here in the first place. John doesn’t deserve her comfort, just her anger. “I’m sorry, Zed. I really am. You shouldn't have gotten caught up in all of my nonsense. If it hadn’t been for me —“

“You didn’t give me a tumor, John.” Zed answered dryly, raising an eyebrow as she pushed her door open a bit more widely. John stared at the space between her and the hallway, trying to see if there were any family photos or signs of Jim Corrigan along the walls. Maybe Oliver fixing the timeline saved him too. “Come inside. We have a guest room.”

“No, no, that’s all right, love. I just came to say that.” John promises with a tight smile, not quite meeting her gaze. Zed’s always been too good at reading people for him to risk that. 

“You look like shit.” Zed tries instead, expression softening as she presses a hand against his shoulder. It would be so easy to fall into that touch, to let her hold him and tell him he wasn’t the monster he thought he was. 

But John’s done pretending. “Goodbye, Zed take care of yourself.” 

Then he walks away as quickly as possible, ignoring her shouts until he sees the light of the Jumpship a few feet away. She’s his first goodbye and nowhere near his last. 

* * *

Next on the list are Ray and Nora, and a part of him hopes that Nate will be there too so he can kill three birds with one stone. But it’s just them, Ray smiling so brightly that it’s almost blinding. “John! You’re the third legend to come to dinner here.” 

“And the first to come without asking first.” Nora raises an eyebrow, as though she knows him being there can’t mean anything good. She’s always been a smart girl. 

“Not here for dinner, Squire.” John promises with a small, crooked smile as he gives them both a quick smile. He takes a few steps inside this time, sure they’ll be a bit more suspicious if he just bolts without another word than Zed was. Or, well, she was probably just as suspicious, but Zed doesn’t know where John lives anymore. The Dahrk-Palmer family does. “Just thought I’d check in and see how you lovebirds were doing. Never did get a chance to give you a wedding gift.”

“John, you gave us your house for our engagement dinner and for the ceremony, that’s more than enough of a gift.” Ray presses a hand against his shoulder, smile warm and comforting and gaze open and trusting in a way it should never be towards a man like him. 

Ray terrifies John, because sometimes when he gives him the right smile or earnest look, he makes John think maybe he could be a better man. 

“Really?” Nora’s voice is dry as she watches him cross the room, biting her lip as though she wanted to ask him a question. John meets her gaze and shakes his head, keeping his own expression light and even. They don’t need to know more about this than they do. They’re not heroes anymore. “John, could we talk —“

“I’m afraid I can’t stay long, fighting’ the good fight and all that.” John gives her a smile with just a touch of danger in it, eyes flashing for a moment with what might have been magic. She gives him a half-smile, shaking her head as she turns her gaze away from him. They walk into the other room, and somehow for once Ray has the good sense not to follow. “I just wanted to tell you both how happy I am for you. Especially you, Nora.”

“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?” Nora crosses her arms and gives him a flat look, and John almost wishes it didn’t have so much concern along the edges. 

“Wouldn’t be much of a Legend if i didn’t, would I?” He asks with forced cheer, just in case the big man is listening in on them. He makes small talk for a few more minutes, distracting them will tall tales and carefully leaving out any mentions of Behrad it looms or Astra. 

He gets to the door when Nora presses her hand on his shoulder, her look cooler than it has been before. Her words are careful and sharp when he speaks, more of a warning than anything else. “John, you told me once not to embrace magic unless I was sure. Whatever you’re about to do, if you’re not sure … talk to someone. Anyone.” 

“I’m sure, love, but thanks.” John tells her, and then he’s gone before either of them can say anything else. 

He still needs to say goodbye to Chas. 

* * *

He knocks at his door a few times, and a part of him wonders if it would be kinder to just leave before Chas has the chance to open the door. John left Chas’ life for a reason, and he knows dragging him back in for this is as selfish as it gets. 

But John doesn’t leave, because he’s still a right bastard. Chas opens the door and just stares at him for a few seconds, gaze exhausted and then worried and angry. Finally it became resigned, as though he knew John would always come back to him like this, even more diminished than he’d been before. “Why are you here, John?"

“You’re my best friend, you know that, mate?” John hates the way his voice wavers, the more genuine nervousness in it. It’s harder to lie to Chas than the others, and harder than it used to be when he was around more. Maybe it’s because Chas knows things about him none of the Legends do, has seen the worst of him and chosen to love him anyway. 

John has never deserved him, but he let him stay a hell of a longer than he should’ve. 

“Yeah, think that’s why you made it so I couldn’t die.” Chas raises an eyebrow, arms crossed against his chest. There’s no give in his eyes, no brooking of any of his usual nonsense. Chas’ voice is tired when he speaks, one hand ghosting over his shoulder. “John, why are you here?”

It’s a question that has too many bloody answers for John to even spit a good lie out. Because Chas deserves to know these things, even if he won’t ever know if he should believe John. Because John wants to spend a little bit more time with him. Because John wants Chas to figure out what he’s planning and talk him out of it. 

John doesn’t mention any of those though. Instead he just takes off his coat, and holds it out to Chas with a small grin. He doesn’t need to meet Chas’ gaze to see the disbelief there. “I … I just wanted to give you this.”

“You wanted to give me your trench coat.” Chas mutters under his breath, taking it from him gingerly. He clenches his hands against it, fingers digging into the rough material. He knows. John doesn’t think he’s admitted it to himself yet, but he does. 

“Yeah, thought you could use it or give it to Geraldine when she’s older. Something to remember her Uncle John by.” He smiles a little too wide, trying to look charming as he leans in, his hand brushing over where Chas’s knuckles are under the coat. He’s glad Geraldine doesn’t seem to be there this weekend. He won’t break her father’s heart in front of her. 

“Why does she need something to remember you?” Chas’ voice is sharp, annoyance coloring each word. It’s more emotion than Chas usually has in his voice, his hand shaking where it’s still under John’s. John swallows tightly and closes his eyes, words on the tip of his tongue. John could stop all of this right now, tell Chas all about his idiotic plan and let him lock him up until John came to his senses. 

Instead John leans in and presses a quick kiss to Chas’ lips. Their warm and chapped, beard slightly rough against his face. It lasts seconds and ages, Chas not quite kissing him back but not pushing him away either. John moves away first, voice a little more choked than he’d like. “Goodbye, Chas.”

John!” Chas cries as John vanishes into the shadows, cloaked in the same magic as the Jumpship. He wipes at his eyes a few times. Then he takes a deep breath and sets his course for the Waverider. 

Now that the goodbyes are done, it’s time for the apologies, and fuck if they’re not going to be worse. 

* * *

Nate greets him at the Jumpship, wrinkling his nose a bit as he eyes John suspiciously. He doesn’t hate him, but he doesn’t trust him. John’s not sure anyone on the bloody ship does anymore, and he’s almost proud of them for finally getting some sense knocked into them. He just wishes the price had been a little cheaper. 

“Where have you been?” Nate asks as he hovers behind him, scrunching his face up as he takes in John’s slightly red eyes and missing coat, his usual air of melancholy even heavier than usual. 

John slides an arm around his shoulder, giving him a roguish grin until the concern fades from Nate’s gaze. He considers asking him to leave a message for Gary, but he figures it’s better for Gary to never have to see him again. He doesn’t exactly have a house to leave him anymore, and John’s let him do enough for him as it is. 

John pats Nate on the shoulder one more time, and then starts walking down the hallway toward their quarters. “Visited an old friend. Your library … it’s nice. Good collection.” 

“Thank you?” Nate sounds more surprised than anything else, and John supposes he can’t blame him. God knows he’d turned the room into his private yoga studio and left bags of sunflower and feet in it more times than he could count. 

“Anytime, handsome.” John calls back as he knocks on Zari’s door a few times. He swears he can almost hear Nate’s wince from where he’s standing. John’s not shocked to find him long gone by the time Zari finally opens the door, tired eyed and in her pajamas. 

Zari stares at him coolly, expression careful and closed off, the way it’s been since Behrad. John can’t blame her for it, his blood as much on his hands as anyone who had the misfortune to meet him. If he’s been less of a selfish bastard, then … well he wasn’t one, and Behrad is dead. 

“I’m sorry about Behrad. I wasn’t … well it doesn’t matter what I was trying to do, does it?” John trails off in a weak voice, his words falling flat. He won’t make Zari any of his big promises, won’t try to con her into having some kind of underserved faith in him. She’s too smart for that and there’s nothing he has to offer her that she wants. 

“No, it doesn’t. Why are you here, John?” Zari’s voice is cold, a touch of wary curiosity in her eyes as she took him in. John swallows a bit and tries to push away all the idiotic things he could say, the things he has before. If he’s going to be better, he might as well start trying how. 

“I just wanted to say … we’ll get him back, with the loom.” That John can say with confidence, grinning in spite of himself. He does love finding loopholes. He wished this one weren’t quite so bloody tight, but … it is what it is. 

Zari narrows her gaze, a mixture of disbelief and distrust warring there. She crosses her arms and leans in, voice low and harsh, like the sound of Michael’s bells. “What about Astra?”

“I’ll get her back too.” John promises with a quick smirk, walking down the hallway more slowly this time. He doesn’t expect Zari to follow him. She might be keeping an eye on him, but it was late enough she probably felt safe going back to sleep. But John’s always done his best work when there are no prying eyes to try to keep him inside the lines. 

That might be why he doesn’t stop by Sara’s door, even though he’s sure he owes her plenty of apologies too. She knows him too well, would see the resignation in his gaze, that specific kind of mania that came with making a decision he couldn’t take back. And she’d try to stop him. She’s always been too good for her own good, that one. 

Instead John pushes his way through to the library, knowing Charlie would be there guarding the loom. They’re taking turns, and the two of them had the last shifts. She looks up at him and raises an eyebrow, knocking back her glass as though she’ll need the entire bottle just to deal with him. John can’t say he blames her. He usually needs twice as much. 

“I should’ve listened to you, about your sisters.” John mutters as he comes to stand on the other side of the bar. He looks her in the eyes so she can see that he’s sincere, or as sincere as he ever is. If he had listened to her about her sisters, trusted that she knew better and not recklessly thrown their best shot away because he thought he knew better — Behrad would be alive right now and they probably would’ve gotten all the pieces of the loom a hell of a lot quicker. 

“Yes, you should have, but why are you bringing that up now?” Charlie gives him a pointed look as she takes another sip of her whiskey. Her gaze is hard as she took in the determined set of his brows, the way he’s holding himself steady even as his hands start to shake. 

John grabs one of the other bottles of whiskey from behind her, not pausing as he takes a deep swig from the bottle. If they’re going to do this, John wants to be drunk while it happens. “I need your help.” 

“Yeah, last time we teamed up by ourselves it didn’t really work out, mate.” Charlie’s voice takes on a slightly bitter note, her gaze growing harsh as she takes a step back. John winces and thinks of Desmond and the timelines they made and Neron — it all worked out in the end, but … not because of him. And that’s the thing isn’t it? Not because of him. 

“I can fix it, Charlie. Astra, Behrad, Desmond, the bloody loom— the problem’s been staring me in the face all along.” John meets her gaze beseechingly, and Charlie stares back at him like she’s never seen him before. Or maybe like she’s seeing him for the first time, the selfish, damaged man who clings to life even though it’s never loved him back in the least. 

Charlie sees him and takes another sip of her whiskey. Then she smiles at him, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Talk to me.”

It's almost too easy to convince her in the end. Charlie watches as he brushes his hands over that golden threads, finding his own with a smirk. He touches his where they agreed, tugging a bit — then John slides his hands up, to the top of the thread and rips it out. He barely hears Charlie scream his name. 

* * *

Sara watches with a soft smile as Behrad, Nate, and Zari huddle together on the couch, barely having let go of each other since Behrad first reappeared on the Waverider. Sara still can’t help but feel a sense of unease building in her stomach, a sense of something being wrong. It only gets worse when she sees Charlie standing in the corner instead of in the huddle on the couch. 

Charlie … Charlie who’s _alone_ by the bar. Sara walls over to her, frowning as she glances past her and at the destroyed loom. “Where’s John?” 

“John Constantine never existed.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: I don’t 100% get how the Loom of Fate works in canon. My understanding is that it would change the person(s)’ fates without affecting anyone else’s memory or fates themselves. I assume if you erased or removed yourself from time though, that would still mean the things you did or inadvertently caused would still be undone even if people remembered them? But also that might be wrong. As for the Sara of it all, I assume her fate was to be brought back to life as herself, so that would’ve happened even without John Idk Zatanna did it. 
> 
> Questions and comments are loved!


End file.
